


In Your Court Drabble

by RescueSatellite



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Concerned mother Tikki, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Jk but could you imagine, Nurse Adrien, Reveal, Stubborn Marinette (but what's new), Theres quite a bit of blood in this drabble, You Have Been Warned, blood warning, death mention, good luck finding it lmao, injured ladybug, she gets hurt and he gets ~comfortable~, there’s a little bit at the end there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RescueSatellite/pseuds/RescueSatellite
Summary: When Ladybug is injured in battle and accidentally reveals herself, she discovers who has been behind the screen, saving her life for so long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lil_fangirl27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_fangirl27/gifts).



> Thank you so much lil_fangirl27 for the prompt behind this drabble. It was really fun. I've been craving a reveal scenario but haven't been able to fit it in yet, so this has satisfied so many of my needs. 
> 
> TW: Blood warning

A hot tear streaked under Ladybug’s mask. She grimaced and put a hand to her side, trying to stand up, but weakness overtook her legs, and she crumbled once again to the floor. Adrenaline from the battle was wearing off, and she had precious little time to get out of the view of the public. 

All around her stood worried faces, watching her. They wondered if she was okay, if she was hurt.

The answers were no, and yes, but they couldn't know either. 

A surge of warmth began in her earrings and blossomed through her body. She felt a new wave of strength grow within her, and she knew Tikki was working hard to keep her suit around her body. It had been four and a half minutes since she had used her Lucky Charm, and there was no way Tikki would hold on for much longer. 

Ladybug was a master at putting on a brave face, she slipped into them so easily sometimes she even convinced herself that she was going to be fine. But bitter nagging at the back of her head told her that she was in trouble. 

She forced herself to stand up, listening to the fragile beeping from her earrings telling her that it was now or never, and gave one last wave to the crowd. It was lucky that the red color of her suit hid the streaks of red blood falling from her side. 

But then, she had always been lucky. 

Her strength left her as she collapsed into an alleyway. She cleared either end of it, making sure there were no cameras, no stray civilians that would witness her transformation. One shuddering breath later, Tikki had shed the second skin from her body and was floating worriedly in front of Marinette’s face. 

“Marinette, are you okay?”

She couldn't find the will to speak at that moment, so she shook her head hard. Her hand was gripping tightly to her side, where she knew a fair amount of blood was running through her fingers. Tikki went to examine and gave a little gasp. 

“This is worse than I thought. This is bad, Marinette. We should really go to the hospital.”

Marinette hated hospitals. They felt like a trap to her. Come in and never leave. At least not all of you. 

“And tell them what, Tikki? No one was injured in the akuma attack. I made sure of that. And I’m too far away to limp back to the emergency responders can help me. Do you really think that they’ll believe anything other than an akuma could have done this to me?”

The scrape on her side looked like a dinosaur had raked its talons into her. Three three-centimeter deep gashes ran along her waist, at least ten or fifteen centimeters long. Her only saving grace was that the nails were sharp. They were clean cuts, but they bled like crazy. 

“I can’t go to the hospital, Tikki. They’ll know who I am in a minute. Even if a nurse has a inkling of a feeling that I’m Ladybug, then the whole world will know in less than a week.” Marinette bent over with a groan as a wave of agony swept through her. More tears leaked down her face. Tikki wasn’t able to do anything but look on in sympathy. For a god, she wasn’t much use outside of the suit. 

“I have to get home.” Marinette stood as straight as she could manage. She had made it as close to home as possible before she had to find a place to transform, but she had only had seconds to travel, so she didn’t make it very far. She still had a good five blocks to walk in the blustery cold of an early March evening. 

The last remnants of the sun faded from the sky as she limped home. She reveled in the warmth that it provided, feeling her fingers and toes become colder and colder as she lost more blood. She was shivering as she made it to her building, and practically collapsing when she made it up the stairs. 

Tikki flew ahead when they made it to her street and began pulling everything she could from the cabinets where first aid supplies were stored. Gauze pads and safety tape galore, stitches and needles, ointments and creams, little things she collected throughout the years of fighting and injuries. She had quite a spread. 

When she made it through her door, she began stripping down, tossing her bloodied and ripped clothes aside so that she could begin washing the cut. She sat in just her underwear on the couch, where Tikki had spread out their emergency plastic sheet. However much Marinette bled, she refused to get any of it on her furniture. 

Sitting down, finally, Marinette leaned back briefly and closed her eyes, her heart pounding and left over blood racing through her ears. Her limbs were heavy, her eyelids drooping, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. She could so easily drift off to unconsciousness, where she wouldn't feel the bleeding wound in her side. A slap on the face, courtesy of Tikki, brought her back into consciousness. 

“You can’t sleep, Marinette. You know that.”

Marinette shook tiredness from her, but it stuck like molasses. Her head was stuffed with cotton balls as she looked at the items around her. 

“Tikki, can you grab me something from the cabinet?” 

“What do you need?”

Tikki reluctantly brought Marinette a large, unopened bottle of white liquor. 

“Is this really the best idea, Marinette?”

She ignored the suggestion and opened the bottle, gulping down a hefty helping and taking a deep breath. 

“I gotta stay awake.” There was no way she was going to stay conscious for very long at this point. Drastic measures had to be taken. She hated drastic measures. 

Marinette grabbed a washcloth from the table, the cheap kind you buy in bulk at the market, and shoved it in her mouth, biting down hard. Before she could rethink the move, she upended the liquor on her side, and fire exploded in her body. She couldn't help but to scream. The washcloth in her mouth muffled the sound. 

Clouds dipped across her vision, but a new wave of adrenaline had made its was into her veins. She spat out the washcloth and swallowed a couple more mouthfuls of booze, convincing herself that it was what she needed. 

“Marinette, please.”

“No, Tikki!” She could make no use of the disapproving mother voice Tikki frequented as volleys of tears made their way down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. “No hospitals.”

Tikki reluctantly backed away, watching from a distance as Marinette went about cleaning her side. It was hard work with the angle. She had to lift her arm to access the cuts, but doing to stretched out her side and opened them up more, causing pain and blood abound. 

The emergency plastic sheet was doing more than its share of work. 

Marinette fought back tears of agony as she lifted her arm again, ready to make another couple of feeble swipes to clean away whatever blood she could. It was tedious work. She doubted she would be able to get it all done before she collapsed onto the couch. 

She hissed at her pain when a knock came at the door. 

“Marinette?”

“Adrien?” Tikki asked. The two in the apartment looked worriedly at each other and then to the door. Marinette was in no state.

Completely naked, save her underwear, and on a plastic sheet covered in her own blood, there was no time for company. 

“Um… I’m kinda busy!” Marinette called as loudly as she could. There was no judging how loud it really was, as the sound of her heart beat took over everything. 

“I know. I… I’m here to help.” It was more of a question than a statement. The two in the apartment shared one last glance before Marinette stood. 

At the door, she wrapped a black jacket around her shoulders to hide unmentionables and opened the door. Show anything more than her face and there would be no getting out of an explanation, so she only opened the door a crack. 

Adrien stood with windswept hair and a heaving chest in the hallway. 

“I saw-” huff “- what happened. Are you-” huff “-okay? I brought supplies.” Huff huff “I didn’t know what you might need.” He clenched to a grocery bag full of medical supplies. Marinette recognized some of the sterile blue packaging and stark white gauze. 

“You saw what-?” She let her guard down for only a moment and the door swung open slightly. It was enough to let him see into the apartment. 

Adrien’s eyes widened to saucers. “Shit, Mari.” Before she could object, he pushed the door open. She didn’t have the strength to keep it closed. Her hand unconsciously made its way back to her side, gripping tightly to fend off the hurting. Adrien had taken a step into the apartment and took everything in. The emergency plastic sheet, the supplies on the table, the bottle of booze marred with a bloody handprint, and Marinette herself, hunched over, gasping for every breath. 

Their eyes met and Marinette conceded. She needed help. There was no way she could do this on her own. She granted herself just a moment of weakness, let out in a sob that wrenched her entire body. The pain blinded her, and she finally collapsed, tumbling forward to where Adrien waited to catch her. She fell into open arms, and allowed him to carry her to the couch, where she laid with her injured side to him. 

“Can- um - can I see?” Adrien kneeled beside the couch, his hands fluttering around her, unsure where to land. 

Marinette buried her face into the cushions of the couch. She raised one shoulder and felt the jacket she had wrapped herself in slip off, revealing the cuts to Adrien. 

He tried to hide his surprised gasp, but she heard it loud and clear. There was no suppressing it. She pushed her face further into the couch. 

“Marinette…” he whispered. 

A quick thought passed through her head, and she snapped around to face him. “Adrien?” He startled where he was reaching around him to grab the alcohol wipes that waited on the coffee table behind him. “How did you know?” 

He cocked his head to the side in questioning. 

“That… that I was hurt? How did you know?” Her eyed widened. “Do you… know?”

His eyes darted away, and around the room. 

“Adrien? Do you know?” The trembling was all but erased from her voice, and a panicked strength surged through her. 

“Yeah.” They met eyes. Adrien’s eyebrows had cinched together, and guilt passed through his look. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to see you… transform. I was watching through the cameras, you know, and I didn't want to - I mean I wanted to know but not like this, so I didn't mean to, but… But you were hurt.” He, very carefully, pressed the alcohol wipe onto one of the three raking cuts on her side. She hissed slightly, but the last of her energy was leaving her. “I’m sorry. But I had to help.” 

Marinette sunk fully into the plastic-lined couch. Her arms were locked tightly across her chest, trying to shield more than her skin from him. He noticed her defensive stance and grabbed a towel from behind him to place across her body. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” she murmured. 

“Of course. I would never.” 

“You shouldn't have watched. You shouldn't have been there. It’s dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Marinette.”

“No.” She snapped, but she didn’t dare turn to look at him. “No, you can’t, Adrien. Not with him out there. There’s a reason I have the powers that I do. It’s because no one else can deal with the powers that he has. You have to know that. Without me, people would die.” 

Adrien’s voice lowered to a whisper. “But… you could die, too.” He kept wiping at the wounds that were finally clotting at her side. They were bleeding less and less, but every move Marinette made threatened another round of bleeding. She kept as still as possible and let him work. 

She blinked hard against the volley of tears that had never stopped falling from her eyes. “That’s my problem.”

He ripped open a new package of gauze. “It’s not just your problem. There are people who care about you. There are people who care about Ladybug, and who rely on her to protect them. You can’t just go away and leave the people alone to fend for themselves. You can’t just …. leave.” 

He began the careful task of stitching the sides of her wounds together. Marinette snatched the bottle of liquor from the floor and gulped down a large mouthful. 

“People care about you, Marinette.” He cleared his throat. “People care about Marinette.” 

She braced herself against the needle prick pain of the stitching, letting him finish his work without another word. And really, what more was there to say?

He finished the job with a large piece of gauze taped across her waist. 

“You’ll need to be still for a while. You need to heal.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Adrien. I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

He cleaned some of the scraps of wrapping up, tossing them into the bag he brought from the store. “I know.”

He went through the long process of cleaning the rest of the apartment of the red stains and debris that was scattered about. It had been a while since she had cleaned, and she found herself rather embarrassed that he was doing the work that she should have done a week ago. 

She closed her eyes and listened intently on the path he made through the apartment. He opened and closed cabinets under the sink in the kitchen, looking for the trash can hidden behind one. The unmistakeable sound of a pill bottle opening and shaking out a handful of pills came from the kitchen, and the faucet tap turned on then off. 

Marinette heard more than saw Adrien put the glass of water and pills on the table next to her. Reluctantly, she felt herself drifting off to sleep, imagining Adrien as the face behind the hacker who had been saving her life. And here he was. At it again. Being a hero in his own right.

As she faded away, she could just overhear him at the door, speaking mostly to himself. But it was a message meant for her. 

Through cotton stuffed ears, she heard him whisper, “You don't need to be on your own anymore,” before darkness took her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette lets herself be vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s adding a chapter at three in the morning after six months with absolutely no prompting or warning?!?! This piece of shit! Enjoy. *throws confetti*

It became routine for Marinette to find Adrien outside her door after a battle. At some point she just left the door unlocked whenever she could so he could let himself in. 

No matter the size of the battle, no matter the amount of blood that spilled across the floor, he was always there at her door with an ice pack or fresh bandages. She stopped shopping for herself, and let herself rely on the steady stream of medical supplies he brought himself. 

After a particularly nasty battle against an akuma made entirely of needles, Marinette left a trail of blood to the couch. Her entire body was scratched up, from head to toe, and there were gruesome wounds lacing patterns into her skin. She fainted several times during the cleaning process, and Adrien had to slap her to keep her awake. 

When she woke up after a dizzying spell of unconsciousness, she felt herself being lifted from the couch. 

“Stop!” Her voice was much weaker and less demanding than she had wanted. He barely heard it, or maybe he was just ignoring her. “Adrien. Please.” 

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

All of the breath she had left in her body swept from her and she gaped up at him. “Please. No. Please don’t take me there.” 

“You need doctors. You’ve lost too much blood. You’re barely conscious!” He marched with her in his arms toward the door, and she flickered in and out of consciousness. 

“Please, Adrien!” She grasped as best she could at his shirt. “Please, you can’t take me there. I don’t wan- I can’t go there again. I don’t want… I don’t wanna die.” 

He paused with a hand at the door. Fresh tenderness entered his voice. “You’re not gonna die.” 

A long moment passed while she breathed heavily in his arms. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes were wide, a stark contrast in color. Tears began forming in her eyes, clouding them over. Her breaths came in short puffs. Every movement of her chest brought fresh blood seeping from her wounds. But her clenched fist was steadfast where it gripped his shirt.

“Please don’t take me there.” 

Her body was shivering with the thought of the cold tile, and the lifeless faces of the patients. The flat voices that came over the intercom, and the fake smiles of the nurses who had been working too many hours, who had seen too much death. Doctors sprinted back and forth to keep their patients alive. The beeping of the flatline that was the only warning before another person was gone. The sterile smell of medicine and cleansers that tried and failed to cover up death. 

The last glimpses she saw of her father were in a hospital. 

They were black holes, and she wasn’t getting close enough to be sucked in. 

“I can’t go back.”

He crouched down and set her on the floor when she got too heavy for him. He sat her up and placed his hands on either shoulder. She was too weak to sit up on her own, and sobs began to wrack her body. “You need help. Why won’t you go?”

“I won’t come back. If you take me there, I’ll die. I’ll die but I don’t wanna die. I don’t want- Please don’t take me there, Adrien, please, I can’t end up there like-“ her throat caught around the words. There wasn’t enough in her body to produce tears. “I don’t want to end up like him.”

And that was how she ended up telling him about her father, and how he had died trying to make sure she was safe. He was driving, on his way to protect her, when the akuma caused a power line to fall on his car. He had ended up in the hospital and he never came out. He had tried to protect her when it was he who needed protecting. 

She couldn't go to a hospital, because then she would admit to herself that she was in more pain, and she was more damaged than she could handle. She was Ladybug. She had to be able to take care of herself. 

But she relented to the sturdy arms that surrounded her, sobbing into Adrien’s chest as he cradled her. He took her back to the couch and finished fixing her wounds, then let her sleep until morning. 

He stood over her, ever waking, making sure she didn't stop breathing during the night. Every couple of minutes, he put a fluff of cotton in front of her face and watched the fibers flutter with her breath. Every couple of hours, he would wake her completely and give her fresh medications. Every day, he would come back and apply fresh bandages, making sure she wasn’t getting an infection, and never again tried to get her to go to the hospital. 

He was there for her through every injury. In one of their classes together, she got a papercut on her palm, and that night, he appeared at her doorway with a bandaid. 

After months of ceremony, she found herself smiling when she heard his knock on the door. He made up his own little tune that he practiced on the door. He opened the door to where she would be on the couch, waiting with whatever injury she had gotten during that battle. 

When he walked in to find her clenching a bottle of white liquor that still had a brand of a bloody handprint, he rushed in to stop her. 

“Marinette. What’s wrong?” 

She was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, in nothing but the bandages that covered her new cuts and bruises. The last akuma had left a scar running down the side of her face. Blood dripped from the wound where she had been picking at the scabs. 

“I’m cursed,” she pouted. He grabbed her arm to prevent her from scratching at her face. 

“You’re not cursed.”

“I’m cursed!” He recoiled when she screamed in his face. It hurt to see her like this, and it hurt her to see what she did to him. A big cycle of pain. She wanted to wash it away with a little more booze. “And if you stay with me for any longer, you’re gonna get cursed, too.” 

He settled across from her, leaning against the coffee table. “I’m not gonna get cursed.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. I got anti-cursed when I was a kid. It prevents any and all curses. I’m curse-proof.” His joking didn’t get a smile from her. “That’s why I never swear.”

“You swear.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Fucking liar! You swear all the time. You swear more than me. And I swear like a sailor.” 

“That’s true. You have quite the dirty mouth.” 

“Pshhh.” She leaned back and began to pick at her scabs again. 

He grabbed her arm. “Hey. Stop that.” 

She looked down at their entwined limbs and stared for a moment. He was caring for her. He had been caring for her for months. He was the only one who knew her identity, and she trusted him, somehow. At the beginning, she thought he was an arrogant asshole millionaire who only cared about himself. But here he was, every day, caring for her. 

And she kept getting hurt, and kept bringing him back. 

Sometimes she thought she was only getting hurt like she did so that she could see him at the end of the day. When he knocked on the door, her brain released so much dopamine she thought she could heal herself. 

But what was she taking out of his day, by getting hurt and relying on him to fix her mistakes. She used to be able to get through a fight unscathed, and go to greet the cheering crowds with boundless energy and smiles. But now, she barely had time to escape to the alleyways before she came undone. 

When she made it back to her apartment, it was likely that she had some terrible injury that would make the next battle even harder. But he was steadfast. He was secure. He was constant. 

He was sacrificing his time for her. His life.

Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m cursed.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was careful, almost pitying. She hated it. 

“This power is a curse. These earrings.” She tore them from her ears and tossed them onto the coffee table. “Everything. I’m cursed with whatever responsibility that comes with… I don’t know. Just everything.” She stopped herself before she began scratching at her scar again. 

“I don’t have many friends, and I’ve never had a decent partner. The last girl I dated got so suspicious of me disappearing all the time that she thought I was cheating. Which makes sense. I’m never gonna have a good relationship with this power. And it’s gonna kill me eventually. I know it. 

“I’ve already come this close to dying. Pretty much every fight I go into, there’s a fifty fifty chance that I don’t make it out breathing. The only reason I’m alive is because-“ 

They caught each other’s eyes for a moment. 

“And then you have to spend all your time taking care of me, which you shouldn't have to do. I mean, how many responsibilities have you skirted to make sure I’m not dead. That’s not fair to either one of us. You shouldn't have to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to worry about me like you do. You shouldn't-“ 

“But I want to worry.” His hand was still wrapped around her arm. Slowly, he released it, and grabbed at the nearby bandages to begin changing her dressings. “I care about you. Anyone who cares about you would want to know that you’re okay. It’s a normal part of being friends with another person.”

“Normal?” Marinette scoffed. “What about this is normal? I’m a magical superhero girl with the power to create life itself, and you’re a supermodel with a fashion icon father, and we’re sitting in a pool of my blood. None of this is normal. We’re not normal.” She winced as he pressed alcohol into one of her wounds. He had stopped apologizing for it a long time ago, and it made the process go much faster. “I just want to be normal.”

Tears that were not from the pain leaked from her eyes. 

“It sucks.” 

“Yeah.” 

He spent a silent minute covering one of her cuts with new white bandages. 

“I’m cursed,” she began again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.” He made stern eye contact and wouldn't let it up. “I chose this. If I was stupid enough to think that I could make any sort of difference to Ladybug, Hero of Paris, then I deserve to cover some of her cuts and bruises.” 

She tilted her head to get a better look at him. “You think you don’t make a difference?” 

He didn’t make eye contact this time. He focused very carefully on his work. “I barely do anything. You’re the one risking your life.”

“But without you… I can’t even start to think what I would be without you. You have kept me alive, and kept me sane, and you…” he lifted his gaze just slightly to meet hers. “You mean everything to me.” 

“I’m just doing what I have to.” 

“That’s all that anyone does. That’s all I do.” The earrings shone from their perch on the coffee table. “For whatever reason, I was given this power, and I just have to work with it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it. If there’s some higher purpose or whatever. I just work with it, and I have to hope that it’s enough. I have to think about what would happen if I weren’t there, and how many people wouldn't be alive right now if it weren’t for those stupid earrings. That’s all on my shoulders, and it sucks, but I have to do it. And you… you’re doing a pretty spectacular job.” 

“So are you, for someone whose cursed.” 

Finally, a smile emerged. 

“So the ladybug is supposed to be some kind of good luck, right?” They glanced to the earrings. They were taunting her, laughing with every beautiful sparkle. 

“Yeah. Some bitter irony that is. I’ve never felt lucky when I’ve had them on. I just feel so… unbalanced.” 

“How about this,” he said as he finished up with her last bandage. “The ladybug is good luck. And let’s say… black cats are bad luck, right?” She nodded. “So why don’t I take some of your bad luck? You can call me the Black Cat or something. If you’re so cursed, I can take some of the weight of the world off your shoulders.” 

He cleaned his hands of her blood on an alcohol pad, then began disposing of the trash he had littered around them. 

“I like that,” she muttered. She could feel it, too. Just a little bit of the weight being lifted. 

He stood and helped her up. She stretched a little, testing her reach. She was sore, like always, but she wasn’t bleeding anymore. That was always a plus. He handed her a sweatshirt to cover herself with. She pulled it on with a blush. 

“You know, you’re one of only like… six people that have ever seen me naked.” 

He looked her up and down with a furious blush. He tried to recover with a goofy grin. His eyebrows waggled up and down. “Now I think that’s pretty lucky, how about you?” 

She pushed him away by his face, and he giggled gleefully. 

“See? Your luck is already changing.”

“Oh, I’m the one getting lucky?” 

“I mean… if you want.” 

They shared twin blushes and went about tidying up the room. Adrien threw away the garbage in the can under the sink, and Marinette went to grab water for the both of them. He took a grateful sip and set it back on the counter before turning to leave. She followed him to the door. 

“Adrien?” She called before he got too far.

“Yeah?”

The smallest smile reached her lips, the kind of smile that she only showed to him. “Thank you. For everything.” 

“It’s my pleasure, princess.” 

And that was how she ended up kissing him, gently, for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost started crying while writing this bc I’m a little bitch


End file.
